


God Is On The Radio

by killbot2000



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killbot2000/pseuds/killbot2000
Summary: Notorious Van Der Linde gang is hiding in the city of Blackwater, pop. 60,000. Recent complications have their members scouting for a new place to lay low. John Marston takes fellow member Javier out on a field trip.





	God Is On The Radio

**Author's Note:**

> I created an entire modern setting just for John/Javier, so if the setting is interesting, let me know. I’d love to do another chapter or series or something focusing on something else but lack the incentive. As always, thanks for reading. 
> 
> Also queens of the Stone Age has nothing to do with the story I just liked the title.

Keys jangled as the officer removed them from his belt and found the one to open the cell. 

John sat up on the cot, “Letting me out to soon, officer?” He stood as the door swung open. 

“Mmhm.” The officer didn’t look pleased. “Good behavior. Man up front paid your bail.” 

“My lucky day.” He grinned as he walked past the officer, stopping at the door frame just to gloat a moment longer. 

“Mmhm.” 

A man stood at the counter waiting for their return. He wore a white long sleeved shirt that, to John’s amusement, concealed most of his tattoos. The collar did its best to cover most of the ink on his neck. He even wore a baseball hat, ponytail sticking out the back, the hat displaying its support for the local Blackwater women’s softball team. It covered most of his face.

He spoke as they entered the front room, “Thank you officer, I swear it won’t happen again… our friend’s 21st, you know how it goes.” 

“Mmhm.” The officer sat behind the computer at the desk and typed something in. “Hope so. You going to the game Sunday?” 

“The game?” He said quietly, suddenly taken by surprise. Momentary panic as his scheme threatened to splinter to pieces. 

“Yes sir. My wife plays.” John inserted, stepping closer to the man rescuing him. He looked at John with the same barely concealed surprise. 

“Good, good. Glad to have the community's support.” He leaned back in his chair, “You gentlemen have a nice evening, now.” 

The setting sun nearly blinded John as they walked out of the station. They stood on the sidewalk a moment. 

“John you’re getting sloppy.” Javier told him. “Any one of them bastards could recognize you.” 

“Yeah and you’re getting forgetful.” He reached over and pulled the hat off Javier’s head. “Karen?” 

Javier pulled the hat back. “Shut up.” He gestured toward the parking lot and John followed him to his car. He turned the engine over and threw the baseball cap on the dash. 

“Next time you get thrown in the drunk tank I’m letting Dutch get you out.” Javier pulled out onto the street and took a right. He pulled the collar of his shirt loose, unbuttoning the first two buttons, then moved to roll up his sleeves. John watched him from the corner of his eye. 

“Then the entire police force turns up to our building. Y’know for a wanted man, Dutch sure is stuck on livin’ in the city.” 

“Yeah, well, not like we have anywhere else to go.” 

“Could think of someplace his face wasn’t decorating the PD buildin’s.” Javier turned a knob to raise the radio’s volume. A local station played some kind of classic rock and John reclined his seat and stuck his feet up. 

“Get your dirty ass boots off my car, puto.” Javier told him and slapped his hand at John’s boot. “Or I make you walk.” 

“Fine, Jesus.” John set them down. 

“Respect the car, John.” 

“Whatever, man.” 

They pulled up to the curb of their building, mercifully several miles away from the nearest police station, and in decent condition to boot. Their landlord, a crotchety old German man, had been attempting to scam them before Dutch, after some very convincing words, had their rent paid for the foreseeable future. Plus, he called a plumber when something was broken and Arthur wasn’t in to fix it. Only after that, though. He wouldn’t be caught dead ordering something that didn’t need to be bought. 

Javier pulled around the building to the cramped back lot to park. Then he made John wait as he pulled a cover over his car, a dark blue modified Chevy that John thought was much too loud. He rolled his eyes but obliged, arms crossed, toe tapping. 

Javier finished and walked up to him. “Respect the car, John.” 

“Whatever.” 

They came in through the back door and went straight up the first flight of stairs, John pounding on the doors, shouting, “John’s back!” The replies were mostly profanities. 

They climbed up another flight and stood on the carpeted landing. 

“Thanks, Javier.” John told him over the subsiding yells and grabbed his shoulder, “I owe you a beer.” 

“Marston, you owe me a brewery.” 

“Don’t count on it.” He clapped his shoulder and they went to their respective apartments. 

John fished in his pockets a moment before realizing, with a groan, that his keys were lost, along with his phone and wallet. Didn’t matter, as both were property of a false identity, but he needed his keys. Either in the police station or somewhere outside the bar from last night, he didn’t know. But the perks of living with so many people included knocking on your own door to be let in. 

“Johnny!” Sean yelled, pulling him in immediately. He threw his arm around his shoulder and led him into the kitchen. “Drunk tank for ya, so it is?” 

“Beautifully silent night away from your loud mouth.” John told him as Sean opened the fridge. “And drinking.” 

“Oh?” He slammed down several beers and cracked one open. “Too bad I’ll have these all to myself, then.”

“You wish.” John pulled a silver can towards himself and opened it. He took a sip, enjoying himself. 

Sean grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard and threw it into the living room. “Game’s on, John.” 

“Sure.” 

The commotion drew their third roommate from his room. “Soccer?” Lenny asked, helping himself to a beer. 

“Great sport of football, ya bleedin’ American.” 

He joined them on the single couch, setting his socked feet on coffee table and stealing Sean’s chips one at a time. 

“How was jail, John?” 

“It was just a night.” 

“Oh ‘just a night,’” Sean mocked, “Ya acted like you been there a bloody year, knocking on everyone’s door, you did.” 

“I missed everyone.” 

“Ah, you’re full of shite, Marston.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

Halftime brought in their last roommate. He closed the front door and took the last beer from the fridge. 

“Soccer?” 

“What is it with you people?” Sean threw his hands up. 

“Hi, Charles.” Lenny greeted him, raising a can. 

Charles raised his own, “Lenny.” 

“Long day at the factory, dear?” Sean asked, already hopping on the chance to push his buttons. He knew Charles was usually irritable after a day out and really, sincerely couldn’t help himself. 

“Yeah, actually- scoot-“ He waved his hand at John to smash up against Sean so he could take the final spot on the couch, “Took that job since Dutch suggested it. We need eyes on the inside anyways, and the factory’s full of crooked managers.” 

“Ah, but is there any other kind?” Sean asked, crushing his empty beer can between his palms. He tossed it to the floor. 

“Are you gonna pick that up?” 

“When the game’s over.” 

“Sean just pick it up-“ Lenny interrupted. 

“You’re distractin’ me from the game!” 

“Okay!” John got up from the couch. “I’m gonna buy more beer. Don’t… kill each other while I’m away.” 

“No promises.” Lenny answered him. He shot a sideways glance at Charles who looked to be praying to whatever he believed in to grant him patience. 

John grabbed a hoodie from the coat rack, a grubby and patched thing, and ducked out of the apartment. He walked a door down and knocked. Karen opened it, a smile on her face upon seeing him. 

“John!” 

“Hi, Karen. Javier in?” 

“Yeah, I think so- Javier!” She yelled his name. John winced at the volume, but her housemate came into view behind her. 

“Yeah, Karen?” 

“John’s here.” 

“Oh.” She held the door for Javier to duck under her arm into the frame, and left. 

“I need to buy more beer for Sean before he kills Charles. My car’s still impounded, so I was wondering…” 

Javier laughed at him upon realizing what he was asking, “Hang on.” The door shut as he let go, but reopened, key ring now in hand. 

They descended the stairs, waving at a wayward Uncle watering what might’ve been tulips at some point. A flickering porch light guided his way. The local Blackwater climate served no plant but the yellow grass that grew through sidewalk cracks in the thousand degree summer heat. Tilly and Mary-Beth grew herbs on their balcony, but how they managed it was beyond anyone. 

John helped Javier once again remove the car cover and place it in the trunk. 

“You think the cops will ever recognize the car?” 

“Sometimes. But I can always get a new paint job.” 

“That wouldn’t-“ He realized it was pointless to try and separate Javier from the machine. The only person who rivaled his attachment was Dutch himself, who drove a sparkling white car that John had really only seen a handful of times. It was recognizable, gaudy, and faster than sin which made it both the most perfect and terrible car for a kingpin living inside the city that wanted him dead. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“The liquor store few blocks down, you know the one.” 

“Sure.” 

John looked on the dashboard to see Karen’s softball cap still sitting there. He took it and placed it on his head. “We goin’ to the game Sunday?” 

“Not if your new cop friend’s there, hell no.” 

Javier had changed into a plain black t-shirt, he noted, that lacked any speck of lint or sign of wrinkles. It suited him well, despite being a size or two too big. He’d rolled the sleeves to compensate, which showed off most of the ink on his arms. John felt self-conscious being unshowered in his disgusting hoodie that was probably older than the car. But he didn’t mind staring at Javier’s arms as he turned the steering wheel with practiced ease. 

They parked along the street a block down from the store. Javier threw a baggy beige jacket over his shoulders, to John’s dismay, and the two got out and walked into the liquor store. Immediately upon entering, Javier peeled away from him and disappeared amongst the other goods. John wandered around for a bit, pretending to compare brands and bottles, just to kill a bit of time. 

He looked up to see Javier staring at him over a few shelves. The other man nodded slightly and moved away to the exit. John picked up what he’d decided on before even entering the building, a twelve pack of the cheapest canned beer, and carried it up to the cashier. 

“ID.” She stated, ringing the box up. John’s hand dipped into the pocket of his ratty sweatshirt and he held up an expired driver’s license from out of state. New Austin. Issued to a Mr. Jim Milton. She didn’t even bother to look at it as she read his total. He paid in cash that he kept tucked in all his jackets for emergencies. Most of his emergencies had to do with alcohol. 

“Also,” She handed him his receipt. “My boss knows you’ve been stealin’ so…” 

He looked up, startled. She stared back and raised her penciled eyebrows, “Do it somewhere else or somethin.’” 

John pocketed the coins and paper she had dumped into his hand and nodded his head. “Sure. Thanks.” 

Out on the sidewalk, Javier waited for him, dutifully smoking a cigarette. He pulled it from his mouth, a great cloud of smoke appearing as he spoke, “¿Listo?” 

John looked up from his thoughts and the box of beer, “Huh?” 

“Are you ready, Marston?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

They walked back to the car, careful not to hurry or look out of place, especially this late at night. Blending in was something Dutch emphasized to no end. Hiding in plain sight wasn’t something John managed well, especially with visible and distinct tattoos that he’d, in all his infinite wisdom, placed on spots like his neck and back of his hands. Cover that, Dutch. Many of the gang had similar problems, but they did what they could. 

Except Javier, of course, who never missed an opportunity to show off. It was impossible to be in a room and not notice him. Maybe that was just John. Javier started the car and took his jacket off, tossing it onto John’s lap. “Pockets.” They drove away and John began to look through the pockets. Sure enough, they were filled with goods from the liquor store. A little here and there, nothing that anyone would notice immediately. He pulled a few breath mints free of their packaging and crunched them with his teeth. 

“Javier, do you steal every time we go there?” 

He shrugged, “Old habits, you know…” 

“Well, keep it to Kmart from now on.’” 

Javier rolled his eyes, and if it had been anyone else, John would have smacked them. But they’d known each other for years now, and the man had a way of sliding past any defense John put up. He was, to put it simply, the exception to every rule John ever made. 

He put the mints back in the pocket. “That’s a nice shirt. Is it new?” 

“Karen’s.” 

John snorted, “That’s cute.” 

“You’re jealous ‘cause all Sean wears is football jerseys. No one in their right mind would steal those. Lousy roommate.” He told him, defensive.

“Yeah, they’re ugly all right. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I mean it’s a good look on you.” 

Javier turned the steering wheel carefully and coasted the car back into the lot and parked it. He scoffed, “Okay, John.” 

Mentally John reeled himself back in. Easy, cowboy. God forbid he one day would find the right string of words to talk about his feelings. Then they’d be sorry. 

“Oh, I owe you that beer.” He got out of the car and hauled the box up, setting it on the hood of the car and opening it. “Here.” 

“John, that beer is shitty. No offense. If you’re going to pay me back it might as well be good beer. At a restaurant or something.” 

He cautiously cast his line out again. Very shyly. 

The can returned to its box. “You want me to take you to dinner?” Subtle. 

Javier shrugged, half smile beneath his moustache. “Up to you, vaquero.” 

John watched him walk into the building, not bothering to cover his damn car, not even looking back. There was a hot feeling on his face which only got hotter as he realized he must’ve been blushing. Goddamn it. 

He hurried the beer up to his apartment, hopeful that he wouldn’t find his housemates dead at each others’ hands. 

Once again forgetting that he’d lost his keys, he knocked on the door. Sean answered once again, still in his football jersey, but wearing some flannel pajama pants. The apartment was dark. 

“What happened? Where is everyone?” 

“Put our differences aside to hit the sack. Charles was right tired from his 9 to 5.” 

John turned to set the beer in the kitchen, finding himself something to eat as well. Leftovers from several days ago. He picked at the Chinese noodles with a plastic fork. 

“Oh Johnny boy,” Sean told him, cornering him in the kitchen, “You've got that look about you. Somethin’ eating at that brain ‘o yours?” 

“Nothing, I-“ Sean’s completely focused eyes meet his own when he looked up, and John smiled despite himself, “I have a date.” 

Then the window exploded in a hail of glass and gunfire. 

Both John and Sean dropped to the ground. The noodles spilt to the floor in a puddle. Sean crawled through the glass and broken tile to meet him behind the counter. 

“Jesus Christ! Fuck! Where did we leave our bloody guns?” 

“I don’t fuckin’ remember.” John shook broken glass from his sleeves. 

Another round of gunfire and they set their hands over their heads as it passed. 

“It’s pointless, can’t even fuckin’ see them.” John shouted. 

Charles and Lenny appeared from the hall, both armed. Charles was in his pajamas and appeared more annoyed than anything. 

“What the hell is going on?” He asked over the gunfire. 

Sean shouted back, “Goddamn O’Driscolls I’ll bet.” 

“Time to get the hell out!” John pointed toward the front door, but as soon as he did, the gunshots ceased. 

He held up a hand and whispered, “Wait a minute.” All four held their breath. Several seconds passed. “They might be gone.” 

Out in the hallway the rest of the gang gathered, looking just as alarmed as John felt. Their options seemed to be limited: if they left the building the assailants may be waiting. If they stayed inside they may be in more danger. 

From the first floor, John heard Dutch’s voice rising from the stairwell. They all gravitated downstairs, pulled in by the sound. 

“We cannot stay here tonight,” He was shouting, “I want those of you who have had run-ins with the law to disappear. Abigail, find a hotel for yourself and the boy.” John looked to Abigail but she didn’t meet his eyes. He wanted someone to look after her if she wouldn’t let him. Sadie stood next to her, a protective hand on her shoulder. 

Dutch continued from his makeshift podium: an upturned fruit crate, “The rest of you stay here to help Mr. Strauss with the police. We know nothing about this attack as tenants. But Micah tells us it’s O’Driscolls.” His voice dropped a bit, “And I ain’t arguing. Now git!” 

They began to disperse to go about their assigned tasks. Through the small crowd, John caught the eye of Dutch who waved him over. 

“My boy,” He set a hand on John’s shoulder, “I wish I could have more people here, but there’s something I need you to do.” 

“What is it, Dutch?” 

“We can’t stay here,” he lowered his voice. “But we have no second location for certain. I’ve heard word that Saint Denis may be a viable option. I need someone to scout ahead for us while we get our bearings. I’ve sent Arthur up north and Micah farther out west but we need to check the south.” 

“Sure thing. I, uh, don’t have a car.” 

Dutch looked at him a moment. He might’ve been in pajamas, black silk-looking ones, but his look of disapproval was as frightening as ever. “Figure it out John.” And then he moved on into the crowd. 

John found Javier outside once Dutch deemed it safe for them to exit. Most everyone looked tired and irritable, personal weapons concealed badly in nightclothes and hoodies. 

“Javier, where you heading?” 

Javier shrugged his crossed arms. It was a bit cold out and he was still in just a T-shirt. “Dutch told us to get lost, so I dunno. I was planning on taking Karen but she wants to stay here.” 

“Well, I might have something. Dutch wants me to scout Saint Denis for another building.” He lost against his impulse to slide his hoodie off and set it on Javier’s shoulders. 

Javier just smiled and thanked him, even if the smile was sheepish and turned his cheeks the faintest shade of pink. 

“So we’ll live in a bigger city?” 

It was John’s turn to shrug. “We ain’t had a drive-by like that since Dutch killed Colm’s brother. He’s desperate.” 

“I guess.” Then he smiled fully, almost playfully, “So you want to see the big city, Marston?” 

“Seems I do.” 

He nodded thoughtfully, “Get your things. I’m gonna tell Karen and I’ll meet you back here in five.” 

Soon they were pulling away from the back lot, possibly for the last time, carrying what supplies they could salvage. John found himself another jacket, denim this time, to keep himself warm during the balmy Blackwater midnight. He hoped this would be the last night he’d have to spend in that building, and hoped that maybe they could leave their greasy landlord behind to get eaten by O’Driscolls. He’d never liked the man. Several other cars were peeling out as well, off to go deeper into hiding. John nodded to Micah who saluted with a finger and drove away. 

“I’m worried about leaving them.” Javier told him as he began to navigate the quickest way out of the dark city. 

“What we’re doing is important.” 

“I suppose.” 

He let out a sigh. “God, this has been the longest day of my life.” 

“I can get us out of here if you want to rest, John.” 

“Can’t argue with you there.” And he was asleep. 

Morning light gently awoke him. Nothing stopped it from hitting him directly through the windows. He squinted against the sun. 

John stretched as much as the car would allow, feeling stiff in at least eight different places. He looked out the window, yawning, and tried to figure out where he was. Across the street sat a building with the sign ‘Flatneck General’ which solved the mystery. They’d crossed into New Hanover during the night. He started to continue his observations, but realized all at once that the driver’s seat was vacant. John felt a little dazed, whipping his head around to try to peer into the general store, the donut shop next door, the bench where a homeless man slept… 

His eyes finally fell on Javier asleep in the back seat, still wearing John’s grimy ass sweatshirt. He was unfairly stretched out on the bench seat, using his folded arms as a pillow, looking far too comfortable. It wasn’t a tight fit, either, as John knew he’d be too tall to even try to lie there himself. Damn, he didn’t want to be stuck sleeping upright until they found a more permanent home. 

Despite his bitterness, he let Javier sleep and quietly let himself out of the car. He crossed the street and entered Flatneck’s general store. The man behind the counter hid his face behind a newspaper and large cup of coffee. John read the clock hung above him to be about 7:30. He wished he’d gotten a replacement phone before their building was shot up. Or even a watch. 

The bathroom was far in the back. John pissed, washed his face, and did what he could to clean his teeth. Wasn’t much, but it helped him feel like he wasn’t living out of a car again. 

Back out in the store he found that he had about fifty dollars in cash that might buy them food but not much else. He didn’t want to spend it here, as food was much easier to steal than gas or a hotel room. He pocketed several items; granola bars, small box of crackers, a premade sandwich. His pockets were big. And finally he took two pastries from a case, with two fresh coffees, and brought them up to pay. 

The man folded down the newspaper begrudgingly. “Mornin.’” 

John nodded to him, “Mornin.” He tried to look as tired and disoriented as he could, which really wasn’t difficult, to throw any suspicion off. Morning commuter here for coffee. Or something. 

“Eight dollars even.” The man told him. 

He felt as if he was being studied as he drew out his wad of cash and counted out eight dollars. He didn’t look up until he had them all, and set them in the clerk’s hand. “Those are some scars, Mister.”

“Some real nasty dogs out west.” He met the man’s eyes and the clerk swallowed visibly. 

“You from ‘round here?” 

John shook his head, “New Austin. I’m on, uh, a business trip.” Only a blind man or a stupid one would believe him. He looked like a washed up metalhead who’d lived on a farm for the last six years because he couldn’t hold down a real job. 

“So that’s why you’re sleepin’ outside my store.” The man opened the cash drawer to sort the bills. 

“Yessir. Couldn’t make it to the next hotel, y’know how it is.” The cash register shut with a bang. 

“I don’t. That’s… that’s illegal.” He tried to speak firmly but it wavered as he met John’s gaze. He might’ve been several years younger, but John’s eyes gave away his disposition for violence. And being an absolute nuisance of a customer. 

He took the receipt wordlessly as the clerk handed it to him, scooped up his purchases, and walked to the exit, pockets bulging with his spoils. 

“Mister.” John called from the doorway and the clerk looked up. He gave him his cheeriest grin, “Go fuck yourself.” And he was out of the door before he could see the man’s face redden to the color of the beets in his produce aisle. 

The car door opened gently and John set his purchases on the passenger seat. After a second thought, he set a coffee in the single cup holder and held the other. Javier would crucify him when he found he’d spilt coffee on the upholstery, a lovely shade of light tan that would not forgive coffee stains. Then, carefully, he began to search for the keys. Keeping an eye on the general store through the car’s mirrors, John looked in the glovebox, console, and in the sun visor. He looked in the mirror at the general store and saw the old clerk standing outside, cell phone in hand. 

“Goddamn it.” 

Then he saw, still in the mirror, a ring poking out of Javier’s pocket. He whipped around and deftly picked the keys from his pants. He started the engine. 

John pulled away from the street, flipping one last bird to the clerk, and drove through the quiet streets of Flatneck. A small town had popped up around the train station, but not big enough to substantiate any kind of prosperity. Most folks were, John guessed, just as pathetic as the man in the general store. 

The town eventually thinned out into countryside. The roads turned bumpy and, after hitting a pothole straight on, Javier finally awoke. 

“What the fuck?” He slurred, sitting up abruptly. 

John turned to look at him, as much as he could while driving, “Good mornin.’” He tried to be more cheery than he felt. 

The man rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, “Why the fuck are you driving my car, Marston?” 

“About that,” John focused back on the road, “Some bastard at the general store you parked across from called the cops on us. Says parking overnight is unlawful.” 

At that Javier let out a dumb, slightly exhausted laugh, “I’ll show him unlawful.” 

“Yeah, well, we ain’t killing little old men anymore. ‘Cept Strauss when this all blows over.” He grabbed the second coffee, his own long since gone, in its little white styrofoam cup with small red straws, and passed it back to Javier. “Sorry, it’s probably cold.” 

“That man's going to kill someone, damn leech.” Javier agreed. He drank the coffee. “It’s a little cold. Thank you, John.” 

“‘Course. And here.” He tossed the pastry bag into the backseat. 

A few hours later he pulled off the highway to a small rest stop somewhere in the middle of the Heartlands. Javier jumped out of the car toward the main building while John meandered to the wooden fence guarding the perimeter of the road. He stood, and looked out onto the country. 

Only rolling hills surrounded the road, and for a moment John glimpsed what the world was before so-called civilization. Endless and unbroken green; no ugly sparking black scars of pavement. The grass moved in whipping ripples with the passing cars like the pelt of a great green cat. And he felt, for a fleeting second, peace. Forgot who he was, where he came from. Just the earth and its windy breath. 

“John?” Javier approached from behind him, back from the bathroom or vending machine or asking for directions, and set a gentle hand in the crook of John’s arm. “You okay?” 

He shook his head, “Yeah, sorry. Just thinkin’ is all.” John scratched his head, then set his hand over Javier’s, heart beginning to beat like a madman on a kettle drum at the simple contact. “Thanks.” 

From beside him Javier smiled. It was one that John hadn’t seen before, not in all the years he’d known him. He felt something in the back of his brain screaming to be let out, but before he could stop to listen, he dropped his hand and began to walk back to the car. 

He turned and tossed the key ring to Javier. “Catch.” 

Javier snatched the keys from the air, grinning. “Now we can actually get moving. You drive like my abuela, Marston.” 

“Your grandma?” 

“Yeah, and she doesn’t have a license.” 

John rolled his eyes and settled into the car. They pulled out of the rest stop and back onto the highway. 

“You ever think about the country?” 

“Out here?” 

“Out here,” John agreed, “no city, no people, no O’Driscoll’s. Just you and the road.” 

“Sure.” The radio hissed static at them as it was turned on. Javier aggressively began tuning the dial for a new radio signal. 

“Now listen.” He insisted, “I know it’s dumb but we could just leave this behind.” 

“All of us?” 

John hesitated for a split second before settling on, “Maybe just the two of us. Abigail told me... ‘bout a house out in the woods that was just for us and the animals. Away from all this chaos. Ain’t been able to forget it since...” 

“John you can’t just up and leave your family like that. Not again.” 

“No, I know.” He sighed, frustrated, “Just in theory.” 

“A theory that is. I ain’t farming with you.” But John caught a glint of a smile from the corner of his eye. It made him smile, too. 

“I guess we can stick with Safeway.” 

Javier laughed and let the radio be, settling on some local country station. “What kind of house would we have?” 

“Now you’re just makin’ fun of me.” 

“I’m serious! I want to know what we have to work with. If we’re leaving everyone behind we won’t have,” he thought a moment, “Uncle to water the tulips.” 

John scoffed, drew a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, and lit the end. “Wouldn’t have tulips.” He grumbled to himself. 

“Out the window, por favor.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He cranked the window down and exhaled into the countryside. Then he tapped the ash on the edge of the glass and watched the hills roll by, eyes unfocused, his face thoughtful or maybe just sad. The cigarette burned down to his fingers. 

The countryside sped by unbroken. After an hour of solid radio, the station began to fade to static. It roused both of them from the trance of a long car ride; John sat up fully, now alert. Javier slid a sideways glance at the radio, but John was on it before he had a chance. 

He turned the dial, searching the airwaves once again when Javier cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly. 

“So, uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but, how are you and Abigail?” 

John landed on some station hosting a sermon that preached to the people of Lemoyne that they, too, could be saved by the Lord’s grace. “Well…” he thought a moment, “It appears she still hates me for leavin.’” 

Javier tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, “John, everyone hated you for that.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Have you apologized?” 

“No.” 

“You’re not sorry.” 

“Not for leavin.’ But for being a shitty partner when she needed me, yeah.” He looked out the window to avoid meeting Javier’s eyes, “But that’s all done, now. Think she’s found someone else.” 

“Have you moved on?” 

“What’s done is done. Don’t matter much if I have or not. Doesn’t matter about forgiveness”

The radio preacher droned on about damnation. 

The sun set as sure as the earth turned. They’d reached the heart of the great state of Lemoyne and parked somewhere in the outskirts of Saint Denis, in a quiet and swampy park. The night was still warm, still humid, and the air felt thick with moisture.

“So.” Javier set the car in park, cut the engine, but let the radio continue to play. “Dutch wants someplace in this shithole?” He rolled his window down. “There’s more water in the air than there is in the fucking river,” then muttered something about the cars rusting. 

They watched the smoke of the distant city blot out the dusting of stars in the night sky. It curled into the heavens, turning the wings of all the cherubs the color of mud. John didn’t believe in a god, but he sure as hell believed in fat baby angels living in the clouds. The ones that shot his heart with something that made him into a bigger fool than he already was. 

“Hasn’t told me nothin’ else.” 

Javier nodded, then turned to look at him. “You know I’d die for anyone in that building. John, if we can’t- if we don’t find someplace, I can’t abandon them.” 

“I know that, Javier.” 

He suddenly found it very hard to meet the man’s gaze, which already intensified tenfold when he talked about his family. He’d truthfully never seen anyone match his passion. “Your fucking farm,” he laughed and John felt a stab of annoyance, deeper still, embarrassment, that he’d suggested such a thing, “that life is a dream. I’d like it, but… it’s a dream.” Then Javier lifted his hand and set it on John’s cheek, carefully tracing a thumb over the scars that split his skin. “John you know I’d do anything for you, too.” 

“What are you-?” John sat frozen, heart beat picking up as he realized the situation he was in. He feared that if he moved, he’d make a mistake and the moment would vanish. If he moved, this may all be part of his imagination. 

Javier dropped his hand and opened his mouth to make an excuse, but this time, this time, John didn’t let him turn away. He grabbed the front of Javier’s shirt and pulled him in. As he did, he closed his eyes and kissed him, the first and only effort to ruin the friendship held between the two of them. 

It was broken for moment as Javier breathed out, “It’s about fuckin’ time.” 

John couldn’t help but feel his lips curl into a smile, and he pulled Javier closer to kiss him deeper. 

Again, it was broken for a moment as Javier gestured to get into the back seat. John didn’t think twice and slid between the front seats into this back, his feet getting stuck in between every surface but he didn’t care because Javier was on top of him, pressing him into the leather seats, kissing him with as much longing as John had felt these last months. 

“What am I going to do with you, Marston?” Javier murmured against his lips. 

Cool air came from the cracked window above John, swampy and humid, but cool compared to the summer day. He held Javier’s hips on top of him, thumbs pressing into the exposed skin under his shirt. He laid his head back and let Javier kiss his neck. Then he moved a hand up and fiddled with the rubber band keeping up his hair. John gently ruffled the back of Javier’s head and ran his hands through the length of his hair. 

“Why’d you do that?” 

“Because” John felt like an idiot, but couldn’t admit that he thought the man was beautiful. He just grinned and pulled Javier down for another kiss. “How long have you been waiting?” John whispered close to his ear. 

“Longer than you.” He almost laughed. 

He fumbled with the buckle of John’s belt for a moment before managing to undo it, along with the buttons of his pants. They kissed again, John now breathing heavily as Javier stroked him through his pants, just teasing him enough to bring a moan from the back of his throat. 

His breathing hitched again as Javier finally began to jerk him off, pushing his chest back into the seats with a free hand. John inhaled with a hiss when he orgasmed, hands scratching feebly at Javier’s back before he relaxed again. 

“Worth the wait, vaquero?” He zipped John’s pants back up and wiped him down with a napkin tucked away somewhere in his car. John watched him with a lazy euphoric smirk then reached for the other man’s belt. He’d nearly unbuckled it when Javier batted his hand away. 

“Don’t want that from you.” Then he settled down and buried his face in John’s neck and shoulder, wrapped his arms around John’s waist. “Let’s wait.” 

John couldn’t complain of being crushed, as Javier seemed to weigh nothing at all, but was struck with the sudden cease in Javier’s affection. “You sure?” 

“Depends, are you gonna let me sleep?” John’s shirt muffled his voice. 

“I, uh, whatever you want.” 

“Sleep. We can get into more trouble tomorrow. See if you’re still pretty after getting fucked.” He didn’t move from his position, thankfully, as John felt his face get hot. Cautiously, he let out a shallow breath and rubbed a hand on Javier’s back, who seemed to be already asleep. He was warm, breathing, and very much alive against John. Not just a daydream. 

Morning brought nothing but a beating sun and the worst backache John had ever felt. Javier still slept on top of him, now wedged between him and the backrest, pushing John toward the floor of the car. 

He took a moment to appreciate Javier’s sleeping face and stroked his hair absently. Then he began the task of removing himself from the seat somehow without disturbing the other. 

After ten minutes of struggling, he gave up. 

“Javier.” John gently shook his shoulder. “Javier, wake up.” 

“Mmmmm…” He pulled himself closer to John, then lifted a hand to rub his chest. “No.” 

John couldn’t help but smile and bury his nose in Javier’s hair. He smelt like sweat and strong men’s cologne, faded now after two days. And it struck him that he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to be anywhere else. All the terrible things he’d done justified themselves so that he could reach this moment. He didn’t think he deserved it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t appreciate it. There was something else too, something intimate he kept caged in his heart, no matter how black and shriveled he thought it to be. Something he didn’t want to speak to, but felt grateful for. 

“We have to go.” John told him gently. 

Javier refused to stir, but spoke softly, “I know.” 

“Dutch is countin’ on us.” He warned, but kissed the top of Javier’s head and struggled again to sit up. 

“Are you guilting me, Marston?” 

“Maybe. Did it work?” Javier untangled himself from John’s arms and let himself out of the car. John laid on the seat for a moment, setting his hands over his eyes, trying not to let his face crack into a stupid grin. 

They set off into the city twenty minutes later, after stretching and discretely pissing in the bushes. Another hour brought them to city limits. 

“Can we please get a hotel? I ain’t sleepin’ in the car again.” They were in a McDonald’s drive thru getting what could reasonably be called lunch. A couple granola bars from John’s pockets had worked as breakfast, but they were now both hungry enough to be irritable. 

Javier tapped at the wheel. “Señor Marston made of money over here.” 

“I have fifty dollars for the most disgusting room in town. A seven dollar lunch won’t set us back.” 

“Disgusting because you’re in there.” 

John looked over in fake offense. “Last time I checked, you haven’t showered since leaving. Karen’s told me you’re in there twice a day.” 

“You don’t shower twice a day?” 

“No, that’s ridiculous.” 

“So that’s what smells.” 

With a seat-belted lunge, John reached over to Javier to smack him. 

“Sir-“ 

Javier looked up mid-retaliation to see the cashier holding out a greasy paper bag from the drive thru window. He looked frightened, skinny little white kid, to be witnessing two of the most tattooed men he’d ever seen trying to wrestle each other while buckled in a car. Javier dropped his smile and took the bag. They paid silently and drove off. 

“Why don’t we check into a motel first?” John tore into the bag and unwrapped a hamburger and inhaled half of it immediately. 

A red light freed Javier’s hands momentarily, “Sure. Are you gonna share?” 

“You’re gonna have to get somethin’ at the motel.” He licked his thumb, “We only bought two and I’m still hungry.” 

“John give me the burger or I make you walk.” The light turned green, but he stuck an arm out to find the food. 

John gave up and handed him the wrapped hamburger. 

“Cabrón.” 

“I don’t even know what that means.” 

“It means you have ketchup on your face, John.” 

He laughed when John jerked his face away and rubbed his hands on the corners of his mouth. He looked disappointed to not find anything, and shot a look of gentle outrage to the driver. Javier shrugged and took a bite of his own burger. 

The cheapest motel in town was shockingly expensive. An older, French-countryside-inspired building on the immediate border of the city and surrounding swamp. It looked to be on stilts to keep it from the muddy waters. John paid in full cash for a single twin, not being to afford much else besides a bottle of water in the lobby’s vending machine. 

He went outside, claiming to park the car (already parked) and gave Javier the room key. Then he strolled back inside, setting the now opened bottle of water on the front desk and pretended to look at the tourist pamphlets. Perhaps he would take a ride on the railroad. Then the small bell above the door rang and John’s hand shot out to knock the water bottle clear into the back wall, spraying the desk and its paperwork. 

“Oh my lord, I’m sorry, ma’am.” 

Javier darted into the back hallway as the receptionist knelt to pick up the water bottle and stray paper. 

Once sufficiently dried up, not lacking a heavy peppering of apologies, John left the lobby and retired to his room. Javier let him in and returned to the bathroom for his shower. John flopped face-first onto the twin bed, arms outstretched, and inhaled the scent of laundry softener. He laid there until the bathroom door unlocked and he felt a warm weight lay on top of him and Javier’s voice in his ear. 

“Shower feels nice, why don’t you get up?” 

John grumbled something and pulled himself off the bed, turned and looked at Javier behind him. His hair was slicked to his scalp with water and he wore the same pants but a fresh shirt, this one probably his own, not Karen’s. John stepped forward and planted a kiss on his lips. The other man smiled and kissed back, grabbing the back of John’s head gently. 

He finally was pushed away, still smiling, “Go shower and we’ll leave.” 

“Bossy.” John shook his head but obliged. 

The hotel tub might’ve seen better days, but the water was cool and refreshing, the soap smelling like generic powder but still clean. He stepped out and used a slightly scratchy towel to dry off and wrap around his waist. On the small white countertop sat a bag of toiletries Javier snuck in with himself, next to it a small hairbrush that John ran through his own hair several times. His own had been lost for several years in the depths of his and Sean’s shared bathroom. Then he brushed his teeth with a disposable toothbrush provided by the hotel. His own had been obliterated by O’Driscoll bullets. 

Outside, Javier laid on the bed, propped up by a pillow, ankles crossed, scrolling through his phone. His hair dried slightly frizzy in its ponytail. 

“John, I found the listings of some old buildings in-“ He broke off as he looked up, seeing John, and made a face. 

“Way I see it,” John began to walk to the bed, “Everyone is safest split up where the law can’t find us. I’m doing everyone a favor, doin’ this. I even tried the hotel conditioner.” 

“John that doesn’t make sense.” 

“It was coconut scented.” He reached the bed and sat on the edge, leaning down to kiss Javier. 

Javier sat up, pulled John farther onto the bed, then pushed him down onto his back in the sheets, getting up and straddling him. 

“Hey-“ John paused, setting his hands on Javier’s wrists, “Are you sure? I, uh, understand with the family and all, if you just wanna stay friends…” 

“Marston,” Javier lowered himself so they were nose-to-nose, “I’m on top of you.” 

“Sure.” 

They finished undressing, easy enough for John in his towel, a little harder for Javier in his jeans. They reconnected in a kiss, sloppy and opened-mouthed. John held onto Javier’s bare shoulders, both lined delicately with black ink in the shape of roses, pulling himself up to better kiss Javier. 

Javier pulled away and grabbed John’s arm to push him onto his stomach. “Lay still…” He murmured into John’s ear, tucking a stray hair behind it. 

John braced himself as Javier fucked him into the mattress, both roughly and exceedingly gentle. His hands grabbed the scratchy blanket at the foot of the bed, veins popping along his skin in strain. His gasped softly, thoughts turning incoherent, a whirlwind in his brain focused on absorbing as much pleasure as he could from this. It was clear to him, finally, what it was he’d wanted from his friend. It wasn’t even the sex. 

It was the glimpse he caught, the both of them now finished, of Javier wiping away a sweaty strand of hair. It was the way he cupped John’s face and kissed his forehead, then how he met his lips. And it was the ability to soak this all in, unashamed. 

The late Saint Denis afternoon air hung heavy with humidity, curling the ends of their hair, causing sweat to bead from their brows. They walked downtown, opting to leave the car where it wouldn’t be at risk of being recognized. Last thing they needed was a scuffle. Javier had found several buildings online and directed the pair through the labyrinth of the city. He kept his nose glued to the cell phone screen as he walked. John took the opportunity to grab his free hand and hold it in his own. 

Javier momentarily split from his screen to look at John. “Didn’t take you for the PDA type, Marston.” 

He squeezed Javier’s hand with his own. “I felt like tryin’ something new. The night’s young.” 

“Let’s take a right up here.” 

They turned a corner, several yards along, Javier pointed out a building. It sat much smaller than the rest, only two or three stories tall, with what looked like one lit window. 

“Needs a fresh coat of paint, but…” John waved at the building with his free hand, “Not too shabby, I suppose.” 

“Let’s check around back for a parking lot.” 

A small alley to the left let them reach the back of the building. John still clung to Javier’s hand with his own, despite the awkward single file they walked in through the alley. He let go when they reached the lot and stood behind Javier. 

“This won’t fit all of us…” He set his cell phone in a jacket pocket and scratched his chin. From behind him, John wrapped two arms around his waist and set his chin on Javier’s shoulder. 

“You’re cute when you’re thinking.” 

“You should try it out sometime.” 

John laughed, setting his forehead down on Javier’s shoulder, hugging him tighter. Then he stood still and fell silent. 

“You okay, John?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I-“ There was a hitch in his throat at those words. A phrase he’d heard often enough, but this one reminded him that maybe now he had something worth holding on to. It mattered to himself now if he was okay. He sniffed against Javier’s coat and raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. Goddamn it. 

“John, Jesus,” Javier wriggled around in his remaining arm to face him. He pulled John into a hug. “It’s alright-“ 

John croaked out a laugh. “I’m not cryin’ I swear. I’m just... happy is all.” Maybe not the most thoughtful sentiment, but he’d gotten it out. 

“What am I going to do with you?” They stood in the lot a moment longer, the yellow twilight turning the cement moss green, the air cooling slowly. In the distance a dog barked, and an engine backfired. John breathed in the scent of Javier’s neck, mostly smelling of the hotel soap still, but a little like home.


End file.
